Musings

Ugly Truth: The fact is, lying on the floor dying from ten or so bullet wounds inflicted by a ruthless killer was not the way I expected my mother would die. And yet her death was so much like a macabre crescendo of her life, a life filled with much less than what one would expect for a woman of such beauty. Her life’s promise never realized - except in the birth of her children. They were real and tangible and drove her to make the most out of what was handed her. The cruelty she endured finding happiness where she could only to be murdered at the place of her vocation. That was many years ago, twenty-five to be sure. And yet her legacy remains from giving life to three very different persons all of whom were thrown by traumatic currents to the very different places where they find themselves today. Could she have asked for anything more?

African Lilacs: I enjoyed a flight from Khartoum to Nairobi in the summer of 2005 stuffed into the middle seat between two of the most enormous black African women I have ever seen. They were nice enough ladies and smelled really, really good. But the rolls on the sides of their bodies enveloped me like some sort of well worn soft, rubbery and might I add blubbery body cast that kept me propped up for the duration of the flight. They both smiled incessantly at me as they attempted to shift their feminine mass so as not to be so intrusive to me.

At first I felt awkward and just a tad uncomfortable. After a while though I found myself feeling quite comfortable wedged in between the two of these very gargantuan lovelies. It was as though the feel of their soft sided full figured bodies, combined with the sweet smell of the perfume they were wearing , lulled me into a mesmerizingly blissful state that gently massaged both the physical and psychological senses. It was as though a sense of complete and total comfort came over me as I sat between those two robust women and I swear it was their karma or aura enveloping me as though I were awash in some sort of mystically delightful state of air traveler nirvana.

The trip went by very quickly and as we were departing the aircraft I could not get over the feeling of how refreshed I actually felt. As we exited the aircraft and made our way to the arrivals terminal, I was impressed by how graceful they both actually walked and held themselves with their saffron and silk clothing flowing over them like some sort of gender based uber-attractant. I never saw them again after I departed the terminal but often think of their flowery African print clothing with red and blue hues and the sweet lilac like smell of their perfume.

Kandersteg: Breathing the crisp, clean air of the Swiss Alps in wintertime cleanses the soul. The tranquil beauty of a snow covered alpine pass is both rejuvenating as well as awe inspiring. Let it be said that there is no greater masterpiece upon which a person may gaze. The brilliant hues of a sun drenched alpine sky serve as the perfect backdrop for craggy gray peaks streaked with veins of snow and ice as a quilted white blanket of snow drapes the mountain contours as far as the eye can see. These are my memories of Kandersteg.

Missed Opportunity: Enroute to Port au Prince in the summer of 1995 I made a connection at Miami International Airport. The transfer was relatively easy and sitting in coach was something all active duty military were used to when flying on a commercial airline. The flight was only ninety minutes and promised to be short and sweet. As I queued up for my connection I began to sense I was in for a very interesting flight. All around me were Haitian nationals carrying everything from bags of clothing and gifts to small cages with roosters and rabbits. I did not pay much attention to it at first, but as we boarded the aircraft I realized I was going to be sitting amidst the Haitians making their way back home.

As I took my seat I looked around me. One lady had a caged rooster in her lap just a few seats from me. The man in front of me had a fan of feathers protruding from the back of his head like some decorative headdress. All around me people were chattering in Haitian Creole. Slowly the realization struck me that I was the only white person sitting in coach class. I took a deep breath knowing that the start of this three month deployment was going to be colorful if anything.

As I settled into my seat a stewardess came up and asked me to follow her. She took me forward into the first class cabin and offered me a seat there. I have no idea why she did that other than I must have looked completely out of place amidst all the Haitians in the back of the plane. I quickly scanned the other first class flyers and sensed they were either businessmen or drug lords as their style of dress and jewelry was not that of the majority of the aircraft’s passengers. I thanked the stewardess for the change of seating and settled into my spacious first class seat. The ninety minute flight went by quickly, and as I deplaned I felt the rush of Haiti’s afternoon heat against my body. It was the overwhelming sweltering kind of heat that could broil you from the inside out if you were not careful.

When I entered the terminal at the Port au Prince airport, I was astonished at the broken down state of the baggage carousel and the melee of people waiting about for a few dollars as a handout. My world had suddenly changed from one of high flying first class to the on the ground reality of the impoverished conditions that the Haitian people endured every day. I think about my decision to take that first class seat offered by the stewardess. Perhaps if I had stayed in the back of the plane I would have learned more about the Haitian people on that ninety minute flight than I did the entire ninety days I spent working in Haiti on a US military compound. We need to be careful about the choices we make, because we may be passing something by that is more meaningful in the long run than the short term benefit offered by immediate gratification.

Copyright Harry Vann Phillips 2020